Call me old-fashioned, but I think a night at the opera is an opportunity to spiff oneself up a bit. You know, to throw on some finery and a pair of fine shoes and show off your fine self. This is apparently not the majority opinion in my beloved Austin.
Wednesday night I saw a beautiful production of “La Traviata” at the Long Center. The cavernous concert hall was like a veritable fashion lover’s buffet: gorgeous dresses worn with vertiginous shoes and super chic clutches; a few mink stoles (it was, like, 70 degrees, but whatevs); beautifully cut mens’ suits; and a couple of heavily pregnant women who clearly didn’t get the memo that pregnant chicks can’t be sexy.
However, the evening’s tragedy wasn’t confined to the stage:
- Jeans. Really?
- What looked like a nightgown worn with a scarf. Fooling no one.
- Leggings. Sweet Jesus.
- Running shoes. What?!
- And, most disturbing, a dress so short that anyone who glimpsed it found themselves at 2nd base with its owner.
I mean, c’mon. It’s the flippin’ opera, not a football game! (Even if Bess called intermission “half time”.) Show some respect for the art form. For the spectacle. For the hell of it! We have so few occasions any more to be glamorous it seems a shame to waste the chance.
On the other hand, “to each his own” is how we roll in the ATX. And one of the reasons this town is so beloved in the first place.